


A Day Like No Other

by SemperIntrepida



Series: Elegiad [9]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, mostly fluff but also not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:55:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21853306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SemperIntrepida/pseuds/SemperIntrepida
Summary: In which Kassandra and Phoibe spend a day off in Athens.
Relationships: Kassandra & Phoibe (Assassin's Creed)
Series: Elegiad [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1531004
Comments: 12
Kudos: 40





	A Day Like No Other

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot is part of a linked series of stories, and while you don't have to read them all, they do combine into a unified narrative.

On an autumn morning in Athens, Kassandra sat at the edge of the Adrestia's deck and fought with her restlessness. She wished to be elsewhere, in Argolis, but she was stuck here in port until the ship was finished being outfitted. She'd go nowhere until their stores of food and water were restocked, or until the worn-out lines in the rigging were replaced with new. Barnabas had said it would take most of the day.

Ikaros chirped at her from his perch on the rail. "I know, I want to be moving too," she said. Whenever she stilled, she thought of all the things she didn't want to. Deimos saying Athens would be his next target. The dark eyes of the Cult roaming over land and sea, searching for her mother.

Ikaros chirped again, then Phoibe's voice called out to her from the dock below. "Kassandra!"

Her heart lifted as Phoibe scampered up the gangplank. "Hey you. How'd you get all the way out here?" she asked, patting the deck beside her. The port was a long way from the city. Phoibe flopped down, all knees and elbows and gangly limbs, and Kassandra realized with a start how much she'd grown in nearly a year.

"I sneaked a ride."

"Of course you did."

Phoibe thumped her heels against the hull. "Everyone's still talking about you after the symposium."

"They are?"

"Yeah. Most of them think you're going to the Olympics as Aspasia's secret champion."

Kassandra snorted.

"And I overheard Alkibiades say something about your magical two-hand technique—"

She cut Phoibe off. "And, there's my new rigging," she said, pointing down to the dock, where two of the crew were carrying heavy coils of rope, stoop-shouldered under the weight. She didn't need Phoibe seeing her ears burning.

They sat in the sunshine, watching the crew at work, until Phoibe asked, "Are you bored?"

"Why?"

"You always look like that when you're bored."

Kassandra didn't know what _like that_ looked like. "You're not going to be in trouble for being here, are you?"

"Aspasia said I could have a free day. And then she told me your ship was in the Port of Piraeus."

This Aspasia seemed to know everything that went on in Athens. It took many eyes and ears to know that much in a city this big. "That was... kind of her."

"She's really nice."

She better be.

They sat in silence for a while longer before Phoibe spoke up again. "I have drachmae," she said.

"Me too."

"We have money now."

"We do." Kassandra wondered what Phoibe was angling for.

"Want to see the city? I mean, I can show you around."

Kassandra smiled. "I would love to." She understood then what Phoibe had been hinting at: they could wander Athens like people with means, taking in the sights, buying fruits and sweets, enjoying themselves in leisure.

Phoibe bounced with excitement all the way down to the dock. Kassandra followed behind, smoothing her grey chiton beneath her old shoulder harness and adjusting her spear in its sheath on her back. No need for armor when she wasn't on the job.

"Let's take Phobos," she called out to Phoibe before the girl ran off too far ahead.

Phobos was picketed outside the stables next to the docks. Kassandra snagged an apple from the stableboy and flipped him a coin, then sliced the apple into quarters with her spear. Leonidas would have to forgive her such a mundane use of his blade.

Phoibe was already perched on the fence next to Phobos, happily chatting away.

"Here," Kassandra said, handing Phoibe the apple before she began untying his lead. He chuffed at her chest, then turned his head to accept the apple slices Phoibe offered. Once Kassandra had him untied, she helped Phoibe climb on his broad back before she swung herself up behind.

Their path skirted the Temple of Asklepios and the market, and then they passed through the fortified gate at the entrance to the Long Walls, which stretched from the port all the way to Athens. The thick, stone walls protected the road and kept the Spartans from cutting Athens off from its port.

Phoibe settled back for the ride against Kassandra's chest, and then, unbidden and unwelcome, a vision of what could have been ghosted through Kassandra's mind. She and Alexios, riding together on a horse between fields of wheat that stretched out like a golden blanket in every direction. She blinked hard and dispelled the image from her thoughts. She had stopped daydreaming about such things long ago, but here one was, like a weed that had escaped pulling.

"Are there really Spartans outside the walls?" Phoibe asked.

"Yes, entire camps of them." Kassandra had seen them, had slipped through their lines on her way to the city. They hoped to starve Athens into submission, and they'd already taken the fields outside the walls for their own. Only the mighty Athenian navy kept the city fed and supplied.

"It doesn't feel like we're in a war."

"Let's hope it stays that way." With all of Greece taking up arms there were precious few places of safety remaining. Even with an army camped outside, there were worse places Phoibe could be.

Soon they passed the gate at the other end of the Long Walls and entered the city proper. They left Phobos at a stable on the edge of the warehouse district, and after that, Phoibe led the way, skipping around Kassandra as she pointed out the sights: _Here's where I punched some kid in the mouth_ and _That villa's where I borrowed enough food to feast for a week_ and _There's the jail — but I've never been inside it_. Phoibe already knew every path and alleyway around the agora, and for good reason — it was the city's heart, a sea of market stalls where anything could be bought or sold or stolen.

As Phoibe spun a story about a smuggling scheme she'd stumbled upon while working for Aspasia, they entered the outer edges of the market, and Kassandra watched her instinctively retie her coin pouch tighter on her belt without pausing her tale. Kassandra's own awareness prickled higher with the growing crowds, and she rested a hand on Phoibe's shoulder as they walked. The air warmed with the heat of bodies, smelling of sweat, and perfumed oils, and spices.

Up ahead, a merchant hawked cups of wine. "In summer they mix it with snow," Phoibe said. Snow from the high mountains of wild Thrakia, brought by fast horses and faster ships to cool a drink on a hot day. Such were the wonders that could be found in Athens.

Kassandra stopped and bought skewers of roasted meat and a nutcake for them to share, and they took their bounty to a fountain bubbling nearby. Its waters were cold and clear, and servants from nearby villas filled jug after jug from it. Kassandra couldn't tell if the fountain was situated on a spring, or if it was fed from the pipes that brought clean water to the people in another of the city's wonders.

Bellies full, they basked in the sunshine and watched people go about their business, making a game of coming up with backstories for strangers.

"Now, that guy's a merchant," Phoibe said, pointing a man out of the crowd.

"Oh?"

"See how he's all hunched over, with his hand on his purse? He keeps looking around like he's up to something shady."

"By his clothes, he's bad at it." His purple shawl was faded, and his jewelry was copper instead of silver or gold.

"I bet he got swindled and he's running a scheme to get his drachmae back." Phoibe pointed out another man. "What about him?"

A glance was all Kassandra needed. "He's a wrestler. His ears give him away." As did his stocky build, and the unblemished skin on his arms and hands. A fighter, but for sport instead of stakes far higher.

"They're messed up!"

"It happens if they get hit hard enough," Kassandra said. She watched the man disappear into the crowd, knowing Phoibe's eyes were upon her.

"Your ears are fine."

"I don't wrestle all the time. And I try not to get punched."

"Except in the nose."

It felt like forever ago that she'd tangled with that pair of thugs sent by the Cyclops. One delivered her a message with the end of his fist. " _That_ guy got lucky. And anyway, I was distracted." By studying her spear, dreaming of a life away from Kephallonia. She'd gotten her wish in the end, but the Fates had spun her a thread far more complicated than she expected.

A young woman strolled by carrying a lyre, and she set up shop next to the road. She plucked a few notes on her instrument, and for a moment, Kassandra thought she might play the Song of Leonidas, a strange choice for an Athenian market square with the city under siege by Spartan troops.

Instead, she began to play the melody to an old drinking song, light and playful within the upper reaches of the lyre's register. Then, she sang:

 _Dionysos, bring me your gifts._  
_Send my worries to the land of sleep._  
_In green grass I'll lay,_  
_my head crowned in flowers._  
_Oh, bring me a cup,_  
_make me king for a day._

Phoibe rested her head against Kassandra's shoulder, as Kassandra hummed along, enjoying the feeling of the song thrumming in her chest.

The musician braided one melody into another, slower, but no less delicate than the first. Her voice shaded with longing, and she sang:

 _Weave for me,_  
_the threads of your love,_  
_so I may wear them next to my skin._

Phoibe scrunched up her face. "Yuck."

Kassandra laughed. "No love songs for you, huh?"

"I have you and Ikaros. I don't need anyone else."

Oh, to have a child's certainty.

Phoibe climbed to her feet. "Let's walk up the Akropolis."

Kassandra followed her lead, and their path wound through the stalls to where the market's edge joined the main promenade that circled the Akropolis. Then Phoibe stopped, suddenly, next to a blacksmith's stall, not a weaponsmith, but a smith of home goods, and Kassandra eyed his wares, doubting that Phoibe had any need for a new door hinge, or a pot stand.

Then she knew what had caught Phoibe's interest: a small dagger, tucked in with the skewers and spoons. It was no mere kitchen utensil, but a blade meant to pair with a sword, equally suitable for carving a roast or stabbing a thug.

"That's a soldier's belt dagger," she said quietly.

The smith drew closer, his eyes on the spear hilt peeking out from her shoulder. "Aye... misthios. Got it in trade for an oven and a couple of lamp holders of all things. Not my work, but a fine blade just the same."

"How much?"

"For you, a good price. Twenty-five drachmae."

Phoibe slumped as he said the number, but her eyes remained locked on the dagger. Kassandra reached down and gently squeezed her shoulder. "Walk with me," she said.

As soon as they left the smith's earshot, Phoibe was ready to make her case. "You said your mother gave you your spear when you were my age."

Children remembered what suited them most. "That's true."

"I know you think I'm too young, but I'll be careful. And I won't—"

"Phoibe, I didn't say no."

Phoibe closed her mouth and stared at her.

"It's your drachmae to spend. But if you buy that dagger, there are some things you should know."

"Things like...?"

"Wearing a blade is a statement."

"Like saying something?"

"Yes. And what do you think it says to others when you carry a blade?"

"Don't fu— I mean, don't mess with me."

"Sounds like a threat, doesn't it? If you say that to someone, you better be able to back it up."

"Hurt them, you mean."

"Or kill them."

"I don't want to kill anyone."

"That's a good thing." She looked Phoibe up and down. "Think you're gonna need to stab someone soon?" If so, she'd have to have a little chat with Aspasia about the kinds of errands she was sending Phoibe on.

"No, but I want to be ready for anything. Just in case."

"'Just in case.' What does Aspasia have you do, again?"

"It's not that. I deliver messages for her and look out for things. It's easy. It's just... I don't know anyone here, not like I know you. And you said you were my age when you came to Kephallonia..."

With nothing but her broken spear. In those early, chaotic days, the spear had been the center of everything. It had warded off bullies and other lowlifes, and shielded her from monsters in the dark. It was her statement to the world: whatever happened, she'd go down fighting with its wooden handle in her too-small hands.

So. She reached into her pouch where she kept her drachmae, and fished out a handful of coins. Not enough to pay for the dagger, but to cover the inevitable shortfall when Phoibe ran out of haggling tricks. She held it out to Phoibe. "It's your choice."

It took Phoibe longer than Kassandra expected to think about it. Her eyes searched Kassandra's face, looking for hints, and when she didn't find any, she took a deep breath, reached out, and took the coins.

"I'll be at that shrine over there," Kassandra called out after her.

Had she done the right thing, giving Phoibe that drachmae? She chewed at her lip as she sat down on a stone bench within the shrine's small grove of olive trees. A shrine to Athena, then. She could use some of the goddess's wisdom.

The leaves overhead rustled, casting dappled shadows upon her, shadows shaped like daggers, and she smiled grimly at her own preoccupation. Blades and daggers, and the first time her mother made her spar with her spear, the discussion of reach and balance that had turned into a discussion of intent, and of the messages that could be sent in something as subtle as a knife in its sheath, or the set of one's shoulders. _The way we carry ourselves tells something to the world, lamb._

Kassandra heard her mother's voice in her thoughts. She had not forgotten it, and her chest ached deep inside as if she'd been kicked. Like daydreams of what might have been, she'd buried those memories years ago, but now they kept surfacing and she couldn't seem to make them stop.

She stared at the shadow daggers waving across her knees for a long time, and then she heard running footsteps and looked up to see Phoibe returning with her prize.

"I got it!" Phoibe said breathlessly. Her face glowed with excitement.

"Let me see," Kassandra said, holding out her hand.

She pulled the dagger from its plain leather sheath. It was short, just the span of her hand from its point to the end of its handle, its blade sharpened on both edges. It was small for a hoplite's dagger. Perhaps it had been made for someone else, someone who hadn't needed to use it, for its guard and pommel were pristine, and the blade was too polished to have seen any action. She tested its edge against her thumbnail. Sharp as a physician's razor.

Phoibe was about to cross a threshold where she'd leave the fantasy of a child's toys behind, where the sharp and shiny playthings of heroes became real weapons that needed to be respected. A hard lesson, but necessary. Kassandra had learned it as a young girl in the training grounds of the agoge: the first blood she'd drawn with her spear had been her own.

"Blades are sacred to Ares," she said, "and a new one needs a blood offering." She set the point of the dagger against her left forearm, midway between her elbow and wrist. "A reminder of what they can do."

"No! Wait!" Phoibe clawed at her arm, trying to pull it away from the dagger. "I've seen you injured." Already-bandaged aftermaths and occasional fistfights, never a serious bloodletting. Despite Markos's foolishness and her tendency to run headlong into danger, they'd somehow managed to shield Phoibe from witnessing anything too bloody.

"Have you?" She pressed the point down, slicing into her own flesh. The blade was so sharp she hardly felt it. She closed her fist and bright red blood welled up in a line, pooling for a moment before running in rivulets down her arm.

Phoibe's eyes went wide and she stared at the blood as it dripped off Kassandra's arm and splattered in the dirt. "Does it hurt?"

"Not now, but it will later." An offering to Ares in the shrine of the goddess of war. Kassandra dug into a pouch on her belt and found a strip of clean cotton. She wiped the blade, then sheathed it and held it out to Phoibe hilt first. "Remember what this can do. And only draw it on someone if you intend to use it."

Phoibe took the dagger and stuck its sheath in her belt as Kassandra wrapped her arm with the cotton. The cut was clean; it wouldn't leave much of a scar. She fumbled with the ends of the cloth, and then Phoibe's quick hands were there, helping her tie off the knot.

"I won't forget," Phoibe said.

"Good." She patted Phoibe's shoulder. "Are you regretting your choice?"

"No." A clear-eyed answer.

"Keep the blade clean. Even your skin has oils that will stain the metal. I'll teach you to sharpen it later."

Phoibe stared silently at the bandage on Kassandra's arm.

"Hey, it's all right."

"I didn't expect that to happen."

"Such things always happen when you don't expect them." Kassandra stood up and held out her hand. "Now, let's see this Akropolis."

.oOo.

Much later, after they'd hiked up the hill, and craned their necks to look at the statue of Athena, and roamed the columns of the Parthenon; after they'd walked back down and ridden Phobos around the city; after they'd returned to the Adrestia and Helios had begun his final descent to the horizon, they stood at the railing at the edge of the deck, watching the gulls chase after scraps thrown by the crew.

"Can I see Ikaros?" Phoibe asked.

Kassandra almost called him out of habit, but her forearm was throbbing something fierce. "Call him."

"He'll come to me?"

Kassandra nodded. "He trusts you."

Phoibe closed her eyes and held out her arm.

"Open your eyes. Trust him."

The whistle Phoibe made was so uncannily close to her own that Kassandra blinked in surprise. She heard Ikaros flapping his wings somewhere behind her, then a faint brush of feathered wingtips as he swooped in to land on Phoibe's arm.

Phoibe's smile was huge. "I missed you, Ikaros," she said, stroking the top of his head as he chirped his pleasure at the attention.

"He's been so lazy since we've been in port." Kassandra reached out and scritched the feathers on his chest playfully. "Hasn't even brought me _one_ fish."

That earned her an indignant squawk.

"I'll never make you work," Phoibe whispered to him, and he tilted his head into her hand, playing favorites.

"Oh, I see how it is," Kassandra said, crossing her arms. "She's _yours_ now." Her attempt to keep up a serious face crumbled under Phoibe's delighted giggles and Ikaros's happy chittering, and she joined them in laughter. She could get used to a life like this. The realization was shocking — like drinking vinegar from a cup when she'd expected wine.

She always thought she'd die with her spear in her hand, trapped in a never-ending pursuit of more drachmae. _Once a mercenary, always a mercenary..._

This was a fork in the road: away from the well-trod, circular path she already knew, another tenuous path lay shrouded in fog, but at the end of it... oh, she didn't dare to dwell on those hopes for the family she had yet to find, and, in Phoibe, the family she had made.

A tug, then, on her chiton. Phoibe saying, "Kassandra? Are you all right?"

"Ah, yes."

"You have a weird look on your face."

"Just thinking, is all."

Phoibe studied her with an unsettled gaze, one Kassandra knew well, for it belonged to the rootless, living in their need to verify, and verify again, the things people said against what they actually did. And that need would not leave Phoibe until she'd found a home she could anchor her trust to. Maybe that home would be in Athens, or maybe one day, when it was safer, with Kassandra.

"Can I stay here tonight?" Phoibe asked suddenly.

"Of course," Kassandra said, and the fog around that tenuous path lightened a small amount.

Both of them clinging to a day neither wanted to end.


End file.
